Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Written by Robert Frost in 1922
This beautiful image-driven poem was written by Robert Frost in June 1922, as he watched the sun rise at his home in Shaftsbury, Vermont.
He had been up the entire night, working on another poem. The words came to him within some twenty minutes. Some years later, in a letter to another poet, Robert Frost referred to Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening as “my best bid for remembrance”. It entered the public domain in early 2019.
Tis my joint Robert Frost favourite (along with The Road Not Taken).